


Apidae, Formicidae, Lepidoptera

by CeNedraRiva



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bugs & Insects, Crazy Castiel, Gen, Nature, Nurse Meg Masters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 06:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13852377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeNedraRiva/pseuds/CeNedraRiva
Summary: Cas liked the gardens. He liked watching the insects. If not for Meg's presence to draw him back to the present, he was sure he would be lost for days among all the little buzzing lives.





	Apidae, Formicidae, Lepidoptera

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Seasons: a Supernatural Fan Fiction Anthology. This work was created for the Spring section.

Cas liked the gardens. 

The late spring air was full of the scents of dozens of flowers and the decay of leaf mould. Pollen floated sweet in the air. Thousands of little buzzing lives tickled at his senses: insects mostly, ants and bees and pollinators, worms and grubs and centipedes. Birds chattered above him, entirely concerned with seeking food or fighting rivals or attracting a mate. 

There was no greater purpose to them except to simply exist, and continue on existing until their successors outcompeted them. There was something nearly sacred in the simplicity of it all.

The birds didn’t care about the families of the worms they caught. The ants didn’t worry about the morality of sacrificing a few of their number for the needs of the many. The bees didn’t question that they should live for their queen.

All they knew was that winter was long over, and the bounty of the world was quickly growing ripe for harvest.

Meg was calling him. Castiel glanced to her from where he lay stretched out across the grass. 

“What are you up to, Clarence?”

Castiel grinned at the familiar nickname. He had no idea as to the reasoning behind it, but there was always a peculiar fondness to Meg’s voice when she used it. 

“The bees, Meg. Have you seen them?” Cas murmured, turning back to watch the bee climbing a dandelion stem. “Each is utterly devoted to the hive, to their queen, so deeply they would give their lives without question. Not one of them would mourn the loss, for it was completely necessary. Yet it isn’t out of any goodwill or loyalty or belief in the purity of their mission. It is simply an aspect of their programming. Instinct.”

Meg only quirked one eyebrow, staring down at him, before she settled beside him on the ground. Cas nodded to her silence, eyes still on the bee, who was now foraging for nectar. Sustenance for the grubs back in their wax cells.

Castiel didn’t need to eat. He never hungered in the winter or felt the chill in the air. Unnatural, in the truest sense. He wasn’t natural. Not of nature. All of God’s creatures felt hunger, even the things that lurked in the dark, all teeth and black slime. 

He wasn’t made to touch. Touching only disrupted things. Set the dominos falling until hundreds of wings were burnt onto the grass. He wasn’t part of the cycle. Not prey. Not predator. All he could do was observe, and be a record for the little lives so overlooked. The proof of their existence. 

Why else would he have been revived to walk from the depths of the river?

Castiel flinched as one of the little buzzing lives was snuffed out. A blue jay sang out, bragging about her catch to all the nearby birds. Cas relaxed once more, refocusing on the bee. Some things would die, but that was just nature.

As an angel, Castiel possessed an innate sense of his own location in space-time. He always knew when and where he was, even if he wasn’t entirely certain what his location was called in any of the myriad of human languages. He could feel each miniscule shift in the fluidity of time as it was stretched out of shape by gravity. 

So rationally Cas was aware that time was proceeding normally. He wondered why it had stopped for him. Why he felt he’d never left the water, though quite obviously he had. 

It was odd.

There were too many hours.

They were passing too quickly. 

Through it all, Cas remained frozen, immersed beneath the surface, while all around the bees gathered honey in Spring. 

Cold. Harsh. Unforgiving. 

If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the acrid stench of burnt grace.

The bee seemed to have finished with her inspection of the dandelion bloom. Cas watched as she took flight, wandering off among the foliage. 

“Clarence?”

Cas glanced to Meg. Her expression was close to blank, but he thought it was best described as aggressive disinterest. 

“You’re weeping, again.”

So he was. It wasn’t important.

“Do you think Dean likes honey?” He asked instead.

“Can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought,” Meg drawled. She sounded bored. Cas didn’t want her to be bored. Quickly he sat up, settling before her with his legs folded. The afternoon sunlight make the smoke of her corrupted soul shimmer like coal. All full of oil-slick rainbows.

When he reached for her hands, she allowed it.

“My dear guardian, I’ve neglected you.”

“Don’t ignore the bees on my account,” she replied, amusement twisting her mouth. 

“They hardly require my attention to function. I watch them because I wish to.”

“Do I require your attention to function?”

Cas frowned. That wasn’t what he’d meant to imply. Meg was wonderful, an entity unto herself. She existed, independent and apart, and entirely devoted to the cause she wished to serve. She was as fascinating as any ant colony.

Although, she snorted with laughter when he related as much to her. 

“You are certainly one of a kind, Clarence.” 

Cas blinked, perplexed by her statement. “Of course I am. Every angel is.”

“Oh, yeah. They’re each as unique as a single bee serving the queen,” Meg replied.

“The social structure of the beehive is much purer than Heaven,” Cas retorted.

“No argument here.”

Cas grinned at her, and considered leaning forwards to hug her. Meg wasn’t particularly fond of affectionate gestures. She may tolerate an embrace, but Cas didn’t wish to make her uncomfortable. Making her laugh would have to do. 

The erratic flight path of a butterfly caught his attention. Cas followed it with his eyes, studying it as it navigated the garden. Perhaps this time, if he watched closely enough, he’d see the trick of it. Learn the secret to the thaw. The path back to Spring. 

He couldn’t remember the way anymore. 

###    
  



End file.
